Stone 2
by elyse43230
Summary: Arrowstorm and Balen have plans to live happily ever after among the Wolfriders, hunting, howling, and living in the now. Two-Edge has other plans.
1. Chapter 1: Arrowstorm

**NOTE:** This story starts off right where _Stone_ left off. A couple of things inspired the elements of this story, and _Romeo and Juliet_ happens to be one of them. Consider the quote a teaser of things to come!

* * *

_Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:—_

_O churl! drink all, and left no friendly drop_

_To help me after?—I will kiss thy lips;_

_Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,_

_To make me die with a restorative._

_Thy lips are warm!_

-Act _Romeo and Juliet_ by William Shakespeare

CHAPTER 1

The chromatic, shimmering light that emanated from the walls of the massive palace structure danced across the milky white skin of Balen's face. Arrowstorm found it impossible to look away as the exquisite elf took a step backward and sat gingerly upon a bench that formed moments before the rock-shaper made contact upon it. Balen's eyes became downcast and the ever-flowing stream of sending that passed between them closed suddenly. His lovemate's thoughts were now kept from him, which left Arrowstorm feeling as though he was standing on an unsteady surface. A whiff of Rayek's scent reminded the Wolfrider that peering eyes were not far from the pair. Arrowstorm shrugged away any care for the audience of the black-haired Master of the Palace and possibly his companion Ekuar.

"Mother," Balen murmured. "She will be devastated. She will…"

As Balen's words trailed off to silence, Arrowstorm found himself kneeling before his lovemate. This was not the first time he had pried Balen from the edge of despair. Every time he did, he uncovered more festering wounds of the rock-shaper's mind and could apply the much-needed balm.

"What have I done?" Balen's silver, crystalline eyes raised to meet Arrowstorm's. The thought of High Ones fluttered momentarily through Arrowstorm's mind, as it so often did when he looked straight into Balen's eyes. With immense power unlike anything he had felt before, even from Timmain herself, Arrowstorm knew that Balen carried the magic and memory of the first born – as if he had come directly from the far away home of the elves. And, of course, there was his beauty, which continued to surprise and excite him with each encounter, each glance he had of Balen.

Even now as Balen's face overcame with anguish, Arrowstorm was full of joy to know that Balen was coming home with him, away from all the darkness inside The Mountain.

"Crestamin," Balen slumped his shoulders, his head falling into his hands. "What is wrong with me, Arrowstorm? How could I have done that? I never wanted to hurt him." Arrowstorm outstretched his hands to touch Balen, but Balen recoiled and stood, moving around the archer to pace toward the door leading to the Scroll of Colors. Rayek's present shadow remained vigilant within.

Balen slowed and stopped, the burden of painful regret visible in the hunch of his shoulders. Arrowstorm rose but did not approach Balen. He was wise enough to know not to smother Balen in comforting embraces or words and wait.

"He could be right you know. I do these awful things, think awful things. About the people who care about me. Have I gone mad? Maybe I have always been," Balen said aloud, though obviously to himself. Arrowstorm felt a pang to interject, to prove Balen wrong, to remind him that a caged animal can't be blamed for his behavior towards his captors, but, rather, he remained silent. He would continue to wait.

The press of a cold, lupine nose against his hand and the sound of a gruff sniff forced Arrowstorm's ears to prick up. The sound was faint but undeniable: the Wolfriders had retrieved the remainder of the wolves and were coming. His second, younger wolf, padded toward the entrance to the palace and let out an eager whine. Balen turned to look at the wolves and momentarily met Arrowstorm's gaze before turning back to face the open doorway to the adjacent room. The time was up.

Arrowstorm approached Balen, who turned and folded into the archer's arms. Tentatively, he opened his mind to Balen who accepted and allowed him to absorb as much of the suffering in Balen's soul as the archer could. Though a few stray tears fell from his eyes, Balen seemed, for the moment, stable, having retreated from that all too familiar edge.

The sound of approaching feet and paws grew louder as Arrowstorm led Balen to once again sit upon a mind-formed bench that the pair could share. The rock-shaper rested his head on Arrowstorm's shoulder, which thrilled the archer as he breathed in the scent of his hair. His feelings were now far beyond a latent affection, and had somehow become fiercely protective of and enraptured with the slender rock-shaper, who's size gave no indication of the great power the dwelled within him but was ever-apparent to any elf in his presence. His lips parted for a moment without thought, to almost voice his feelings, but Arrowstorm thought it better to remain silent – for now.

The palace doors opening. Lupine feet _scritch-scritch_ on the palace floor, smooth as any stone. The young Wolfrider senses the tension. The tight shoulders of building anger and an inevitable confrontation. He is ready for this. He was ready the moment he took the hand of his rock-shaper and fled.

Arrowstorm stood abruptly as the figure of his father grew larger at a pace that only confirmed the archer's predictions. Strongbow had been angry at his son for many things before. Careless, loud play on the forest floor when humans were in range. Reckless aim. Hunting alone. But Arrowstorm always obeyed, listened, and followed. Arrowstorm always trusted The Way, which seemed to be a part of his very life force since birth. Strongbow is The Way, and Strongbow told him to leave that sad, broken bird where he lay. Arrowstorm took that bird, trimmed his bloody feathers, and gave him the courage to fly. He decided in that short moment as he watched his father approach that he was not and would never be sorry for that.

The elder Wolfrider was before him, lips curled into a sneer, a slight growl in his heaving breaths. Arrowstorm planted his feet as firmly into the ground as he could. His mind was open and ready.

To his surprise, his father did not send right away and did not stop moving as he slammed his body into Arrowstorm's with impressive force. Arrowstorm stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall next to where Balen and he had just sat together. Strongbow painfully pressed his elbow to Arrowstorm's shoulder and pinned his son with his arm across his throat.

**You dare endanger us all with this…** Strongbow stopped his lock-sending sending for an instant to focus his attention momentarily on the stunned Balen frozen on the palace bench.

**How am I endangering anyone?** Arrowstorm sent in response with all of his power, and he squirmed futilely beneath Strongbow's hold.

His father's blazing eyes bore into Arrowstorm which would have normally caused his resolve to weaken. Today, Arrowstorm felt empowered for a cause all of his own and could not allow his resolve to falter. He bared his teeth.

**You know nothing of what it means to make an enemy!** Strongbow roared into Arrowstorm's head, causing him to wince.

With this, Arrowstorm made a push to free himself from Strongbow. His father released him but kept his looming stance over him.

"What enemy? The Mountain elves?" Arrowstorm cried, outstretching his arms in the direction of the now-distant mountain.

Arrowstorm moved forward, and his father reminded his son of his dominance by forcing Arrowstorm to hit against his father's shoulder with his own before he could pass. Arrowstorm knew he could not let these signs stop him. He would not show throat.

"Where are they, huh? Are they following you? No!" Arrowstorm screamed, though his voice grew tight and strained no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

**You know nothing!** Strongbow sent, but this time it was open, to be received for all who wanted it.

Arrowstorm swallowed and let out a sniff of air from his flared nostrils. He felt the eyes of the Wolfriders on him. "I did what was right. What needed to be done. I wasn't going to leave him there with those vipers, poisoning his thoughts, denying him the truth. You saw it yourself! And at one time, a Wolfrider would have done the same thing and said it was right!"

Strongbow glowered at his son. He approached him and let out another open sending. **A Wolfrider would have let the dead ones lie.**

"By the High Ones, _stop_," Balen wailed. Arrowstorm wanted to go to him, but he was unsure of the consequences of relinquishing his ground. "I will not hear any more of this." Balen stood on trembling legs and brushed away the tears that had never quite stopped falling.

Arrowstorm watched as Cutter moved to stand between Balen, Strongbow, and him, which allowed the young archer to let out a relieved breath. Cutter would never intervene in a struggle between two wolves; this gesture meant only that Strongbow's assault was over.

"Arrowstorm is right about one thing: the Mountain elves are not following us. Lord Umber forbid anyone from pursuing," Cutter said, looking at Balen as he spoke, then turning to face the archers.

"Exactly! They're all too terrified to leave that Mountain!" Arrowstorm scoffed and immediately regretted the outburst. His father continued to glare at him, and only then, did Arrowstorm's eyes look downcast in an attempt to show humility.

"It does not matter if they follow. You do not have to let me return to the Holt with all of you. But I am not going back. Nothing can make me," Balen said sullenly. He looked at Arrowstorm with his bright silver eyes that glistened as the light from the palace walls reflected off his tears. Arrowstorm furrowed his brow as he studied Balen. His thumping heart had quieted, but still he felt a painful fear within it that he would so soon lose what he had found. Powerless, Arrowstorm looked desperately and silently over to Cutter. No matter how much it pained him, he knew he must defer the fate of his lovemate to his chief.

A moving shadow in the corner of his vision cause Arrowstorm to jerk his head around to see Rayek approaching the cluster of elves. He peered at them and then to Balen, and Arrowstorm shifted his weight upon his feet involuntarily as he watched Rayek reach out to touch Balen's shoulder.

"Let me show him around the palace," Rayek said to Cutter, "so you can have a chance to council… alone." Cutter nodded swiftly, and Arrowstorm's eyes widened at the prospect. "Come, Balen, let me show you the Scroll of Colors. I insist." Rayek smiled at Balen who look bewilderedly at him and glanced at Arrowstorm for a moment before he was led away, though Leetah silently followed after them. Arrowstorm watched them leave and felt a boiling disgust rise within him.

"Cutter…" Arrowstorm pleaded. It was all he could muster.

Cutter let out a sigh and shook his head. He took a few steps away from the brewing archers, and glanced around the room at the eager faces of the tribe.

"If Balen wants to leave his home, that's okay. He has that right. But Timmorn's Blood, Arrowstorm, you didn't have to go running out of there like you had a tuftcat on your heels."

Arrowstorm tried desperately to stop the smile from appearing on his face, but he knew his father saw it. He looked back down to the ground.

"Strongbow's right. We don't know if they might retaliate. They may come looking for him." Cutter continued.

"Let them come!" Arrowstorm shouted, much too loudly. The frustration at his situation, and his own inability to control his outbursts forced Arrowstorm to back towards the mind-formed bench and sit heavily down, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He looked back down at the floor.

"Well, Father," Ember chimed in, "To be fair, you _did_ tell Arrowstorm that Balen could come to the Holt with us." She tilted her head and grinned. Cutter raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and looked at the doorway leading into the Scroll of Colors room. He shrugged and smiled.

"You're right, Ember. Though this wasn't how I imagined that happening." Cutter rubbed his chin with one hand and peered over at Arrowstorm once more. Arrowstorm felt his chief's stare, but, fearing another outburst, avoided his eyes.

"Cutter?" Aroree said with her small, delicate voice that rarely emerged during council. "You gave me a home in the Holt, after Blue Mountain fell. And I had done little to deserve your trust. He's just a child. The sickness that took over Blue Mountain is brewing in that mountain once again."

Cutter nodded, contemplating her words. "That's one thing that bothers me about all this, Aroree. He is just a cub. He has a mother and a whole tribe that looks after him."

"I don't know Cutter," Skywise said, reluctantly. "If he wants to get out, he might be better off with us. I think the calling Suntop felt was more than just rock-shaping magic. He _wanted_ us to come. Anyone to come."

Arrowstorm saw Suntop nodding in response to Skywise's words. "I also think that he could benefit greatly from Savah's teachings. He has great power but has not fully learned how to wield it," Cutter's gentle son responded.

Cutter listened carefully before turning to face Strongbow once more. "Well?" he said to the eldest archer.

Strongbow stood silently, unmoving as he looked for a moment over to Moonshade who gave him an expression that was unreadable to all but him. Arrowstorm felt his heart quicken, for he knew that after all of the deliberation, the vote came down to his father.

A channel of lock-sending was opened between father and son. No words were exchanged at first, but Arrowstorm knew instantly that the jaws upon his throat were being lifted. Their eyes met.

**I love him.** Arrowstorm said silently to only his father.

Strongbow turned to Cutter. It was decided.


	2. Chapter 2: Balen

The long haired so-called Master of the Palace had sat him down, but Balen was unable to focus on his surroundings. His mind was painfully stuffed with a swirling storm of uncertainty, fear, anger, and that same despair that pulled at his gut every day he wasted away within The Mountain. Rayek was studying him, perhaps even speaking to him. Balen only heard the muffled shouts from the next room and saw a formless mass before him.

"Balen?" said a voice that was clear, sharp and cut through his muddled mind.

Balen could only stare helplessly as the dark skinned healer sat across from him. Her lips curled into a small, warm smile. Delicately, she pressed her fingertips against the tops of Balen's hands. The tingle of healing magic wasn't unfamiliar to him, though her touch felt different than any healer he had known. The sensation was like water flowing up his arms and through the rest of his body, both cool and warm, but the stream began to pool within his mind. He tore his hands away from her fingertips and stood, backing away from the strangers, Leetah and Rayek.

"Balen," Leetah said, unfazed. "Do you think I mean to harm you?"

The rock-shaper opened his mouth to speak, but his words had flown away from him. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, only to feel a small jolt of alarm upon the realization that his hair was gone. His heart beating wildly in his chest, Balen tried to breathe slowly in and out, but it was useless. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes as he looked down at his hands, crazed.

"Mother cannot live without me," he said to his hands. The breaths came out of him, heavy and shallow. "But I will not go back to her." He raised his eyes to look at the elves before him. Leetah remained composed, though Rayek's face had twisted into an expression of both curiosity and unease. "I will not stay with her, even to save her life. Is anyone else so wretched as me?" A fretful laugh escaped Balen's lips and echoed through the room of the Scroll of Colors.

"Balen," Leetah murmured softly and stepped silently closer to Balen. Her eyes were deep and green, and Balen felt mesmerized looking into them as she approached. He wanted to run away from her; he feared what her healer's touch might reveal – countless wounds that could never be healed.

"You are weary, Balen. When you should be curious and rambunctious, you are burdened like no child should be. Let me try to clear your mind of troubling thoughts, just for now," she said, ever calm and ever peaceful.

The tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he stared, unblinking, back at her. He showed no resistance when she reached forward once more to place her healing hand upon him. She stepped gracefully onto the tips of her toes and placed her hands, fingers apart, onto Balen's temples. Her fingertips became buried under Balen's unruly golden hair, but he did not feel her physical touch. Slowly at first and then, like that of a flash of lightening, the healing magic wrapped around him like a blanket made of feathers, tickling and warm, growing tighter and tighter until, for a moment, Balen was sure he would lose consciousness and perhaps never awaken.

He was on his knees, but he didn't know how or for how long. His head rested heavily upon Leetah's chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, with clutching hands that held her as if he needed her for breath. She returned the embrace, holding him fiercely to her bosom, like any mother would do to a weeping son.

The cracks were mended and smoothed. The fallen and scattered pieces were picked up and put back into place. And, after a time, it was finished.

Balen heard Leetah let out a sigh, and his eyes opened like he had been fast asleep. His eyes focused quickly upon her, and she sat back onto the glimmering palace floor, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her chest heaved under her bodice of fine blue leather. Balen could only peer back at her curiously, unsure of exactly what had occurred to make her so visibly spent.

When their eyes met, Leetah gave him a reassuring smile. A drowsiness crept upon Balen suddenly, and he rubbed his eyes, feeling a dizziness in his head like when he unintentionally drank too many cups of wine. He was surprised to feel sticky tears upon his cheeks; his face was hot, and his eyes were sore from an apparent deluge of tears he didn't remember crying.

The hazy forms of Wolfriders dotted the room, but Balen's eyes quickly fixated upon the one most familiar. Arrowstorm stood close to the massive doorway. He stared back at Balen sullenly, which confused Balen's already foggy thoughts.

The soft buzz of flitting wings caused the euphoric haze to clear suddenly within Balen's mind. A tiny creature, the color of green leaves, landed on Balen's thigh; translucent wings continued to whip back and forth behind the creature as it looked up at Balen with bright, large eyes.

"Mussyhead Highthing! Make feet go stick-stick in floor!" chirped the green being; its pointed cap trembling from the tiny moving head underneath.

Balen blinked down at the creature, mouth agape, wondering if what he was seeing was real or imagined.

"See!" said the tiny voice. With a swift flick of its wings, the creature zipped to the floor of the palace and proceeded to stomp around before Balen. With each step, the creature left behind a small, three-toed footprint. After creating a dizzying array of footprints, the creature stopped and looked back up at Balen. "See?" it squealed.

"I do see," Balen said and touched the floor carefully, as if it was dangerous to touch. "Oh," Balen said with a start, realizing that he was in fact softening the floor around him. "I did not mean to do that. I'm sorry, little… bug."

The green creature stuck out its bottom lip and let out a piercing growl. "Petalwing not bug!"

"Come on, Petalwing, leave him alone. He's never seen Preservers before," said Arrowstorm as he squatted down next to Petalwing.

"Arrowstorm," Balen whispered. He felt overcome as he drank in the sight of the Wolfrider now. It wasn't unlike the first time he ever saw him, transfixed by his piercing honey-brown eyes, sharp teeth, and wild mane of auburn hair.

"Are you ready to go home?" Arrowstorm said tenderly, moving in closer, gently touching Balen's hair.

Balen nodded, grinning uncontrollably. Petalwing fluttered onto Balen's shoulder, and he turned to peer at the Preserver. It grinned back.

* * *

For a brief moment, the very floor beneath him seemed to disappear and become nothing more than a faint shimmer of light. At first he was afraid, but the transparent palace floor did not fail him. Instead, the glimpse below was enough to let Balen know that, wherever he was going, it was far away. The earth was a blur in that moment, moving at a speed Balen found incomprehensible.

When the palace finally stopped, completely submerged beneath an endless sea, Balen stared with wide eyes as fish swam by the open doorway to the palace, oblivious to the intrusion. The rich blues, oranges, and purples that colored the monstrously large marine life mesmerized the elf who came from a mountain where fish were always small and without color. Unable to tear his eyes away from the dark, black depths of water before him, he reached out his hand and felt it immediately taken by the only hand familiar to him. He clutched it desperately, deciding then that he would not be afraid. He did not realize that he no longer worried of his mother, or The Mountain, or the weight of being the son of Aurek.

The task of floating within a magic-created shield to the surface of the water was a banal one for everyone except Balen. With so many Wolfriders and their wolf companions, it took Rayek and the shield-maker Zhantee several trips, from the Palace door to the surface and back again, before it was Balen's turn to make the journey to the surface. Enveloped in a shield by one elf and pulled swiftly to the surface by another, Balen wrapped his free arm around Arrowstorm, still holding his lovemate's hand with the other, and pressed his head as hard as he could against Arrowstorm's chest. It gave him enough feeling of stability to make the quick journey bearable, but, on reaching the surface, Balen came to a resolution as solid as stone: he was never meant to fly.

Some Wolfriders mounted their wolves. Others chose to walk as their wolves travelled close by. As the group began to traverse away from the stony cliff that descended down into the deep waters, Balen looked up at the massive endless twilight overhead and down at the immense tree line of the forest beckoning him. The sight made him think back to just a few short days ago, sitting on the edge of a balcony jutting out of The Mountain. He wondered if that great beyond he saw then was the very spot where he was now. The thought gave him an exhilarating shudder.

The touch of a cold, wet nose, followed by a stream of hot breath pulled Balen back to the now. Baby, Arrowstorm's younger, smaller gray wolf, sniffed aggressively at his hand. Though he instinctively moved it away from the wolf, Baby only circled around and appeared before him once more.

"Go ahead," Arrowstorm said, placing a hand on the bony spot between Baby's shoulders. "She let you ride her once. She'll let you ride her again."

Hesitation crept into Balen, as he watched Arrowstorm maneuver gracefully onto Mama's back. The old, grizzly wolf let out a gruff snort and took a few paces forward before Arrowstorm could redirect her back to Balen.

Balen placed his hand on Baby's back and felt her stiff hair and the slight bumps of her spine. The whirl of a breeze whipped across his ears. There was no going back – no time to be afraid. He allowed his mind to become devoid of thought, something that was impossible before the healer's touch. One leg went over the wolf's back. He gathered her fur instinctively in clutched fingers. He closed his eyes. She stepped forward.

Soon, the small trees and craggy spindles of bare bushes became massive trees so thick with leaves and branches, Balen could not see the tops. The moons were sometimes hidden among the clusters of trees, and the darkness made it difficult for Balen to keep his fear at bay. When he felt unsteady atop Baby or the darkness made the path ahead ominous, Balen needed only to look to his right to receive a reassuring smile and sending.

**Almost home,** Arrowstorm sent, a slight anxiety present in the exchange. Balen saw the faint figure of Strongbow far ahead of the pack.

**Is your father still angry?**

Arrowstorm chucked quietly. **I can't say I've done worse, but we seem to have settled things.**

**_Seemed_? The last thing I want is to cause…**

Arrowstorm cut off Balen's sending. **No. We settled things. It's done.**

Balen could think of nothing to say in response, and instead, peered back at the path ahead leading into the darkness of the forest.

The Holt, the Father Tree as they called it, appeared suddenly before Balen, causing the breath to escape his lungs. The massive, tree-shaped dwelling was a cluster of dens, and Balen felt the warm, tingle of magic from every corner. Though darkness attempted to invade it, the tree itself seemed to reflect the small bursts of light from the stars above, causing the tree itself to emit a slight refulgent glow.

As Balen stared, wide-eyed at the massive heart of the Wolfriders home, Arrowstorm put his hand around Balen's waist and eased him off of the wolf's back. "Your sendings did not do this justice," Balen whispered. "If I only knew…" Balen broke his gaze upon the tree to look at Arrowstorm. "I would have left that mountain a long time ago."

The Wolfriders were abuzz about the Holt, each settling back in from their brief days away. Balen watched silently as the tribe prepared for a much needed hunt. As a small group left to find game, Balen was grateful that Arrowstorm remained at his side. He was not quite ready to be left alone in these strange surroundings.

It was not long before Balen realized that the Holt had grown quiet. Other than the faint sound of a conversation or laugh, the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of countless insects and the whooping of birds unknown to Balen. The pair sat on the moist, cool ground, their backs against a fallen tree that had become one with the grass and moss of the forest floor.

"I hope they catch some boar. Or a branch horn. Something big at least. I'm so hungry I could eat one all by myself."

Balen listened to Arrowstorm's voice, resting his head against the Wolfrider's shoulder. With the cool summer air around him, he realized how the archer's skin felt impossibly warm.

"You are warm," Balen murmured, his eyelids becoming unpleasantly heavy.

"It's my wolf blood," Arrowstorm said.

"Your what?" Balen asked, losing the battle and closing his eyes. He was asleep before Arrowstorm could answer.


	3. Chapter 3: Balen

The image of Arrowstorm sound asleep beside him was the only reassurance Balen had as he awoke with a start. The sunlight streamed into the den, and Balen sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb his lovemate. He crawled to the round opening and peered outside. The sun was high in the air, which was Balen's first indication that he must have slept through the entire night and part of a day. Balen also realized, with apprehension, that he was high in a tree, the forest floor hidden behind thick branches and a countless array of leaves.

He looked back at Arrowstorm, tangled among the furs, and returned to his side. Nuzzling close to the Wolfrider, Balen found himself dozing until twilight was upon them once again. When slivers of the two moons were visible in the sky, Arrowstorm pulled on his tunic and leggings and sat upon the edge of the round den opening.

"I like this," Arrowstorm said, his eyes flashing.

Balen looked out at the forest for a moment. "The forest?" Balen asked, his gaze returning to Arrowstorm's.

He smiled and shook his head. "Well, yes, I like that, too. But I like _this_. You, here, with me."

Balen felt his face flush. Only a day before, he could easily deflect Arrowstorm's words of endearment. No longer did he have any reason to ignore his feelings for the Wolfrider. Still, Balen found it difficult to shake the feeling that someone, somewhere disapproved.

"Ready to get down?" Arrowstorm said, grinning.

Balen's expression twisted with confusion, until Arrowstorm pointed down to the forest floor.

"How did I get up?" Balen said, his stomach turning with anticipation of the climb down.

"I carried you. There are treewees that weigh more than you," Arrowstorm said, stepping out onto the branch that jutted out from the den opening.

Balen reached out for Arrowstorm's hand. His eyes fixated on a splatter of dark blood on the sleeve of his tunic. He retracted his arm from Arrowstorm and delicately touched the dried blood, scratching it curiously with his fingernail. Balen looked up to see Arrowstorm's eyes narrowed with concern. It took Balen a moment to realize where the blood had come from. When the knife sliced through Crestamin's hand, Balen had not noticed his sleeve dipping into the blood that spilled out...

"Mother will make you some new leathers. Besides, you can't get around the forest in those without getting tangled in everything." Arrowstorm reached out for Balen's hand once more. Balen took it, and without another word on the subject, the two made their way slowly down to the forest floor. Balen was relieved to find it easier than he imagined, with Arrowstorm's guidance, though a part of him missed the sensation of knowing his surroundings inside and out through the stone.

The sound of water splashing, shrieks of laughter, and running water was heard before Balen saw the Wolfriders gathered at the river. As the pair emerged from the behind the trees, each Wolfrider turned a pair of a lupine eyes on them before returning to their bathing. The thought of bathing alone, servants hovering nearby, crossed Balen's mind briefly. _Never again_, he thought.

Arrowstorm tore off his leathers as quickly as he had put them on and dove into the water, creating a splash and ripple of water.

"Nice try, archer!" shouted Pike, who emerged from the water. "I'll show you a splash!" The rosy-cheeked elf dove into the water, forcing Arrowstorm to retreat to avoid a collision. The two laughed as Pike appeared above the water, squirting a stream of water from his lips.

"What'cha waiting for, rock shaper?" Pike hollered, waving an inviting hand to Balen.

"He'll join you in a moment," said a low voice that sounded as smooth as silk feels. "This one needs some new leathers," Moonshade said, touching Balen's sleeve delicately. Her small lips curled into a smirk. "Come," she said, turning.

Arrowstorm dove under the water and emerged next to the river bank. Before he could pull himself from the water, Moonshade turned back and motioned with a raised palm for Arrowstorm to halt. She turned once more and walked out of the clearing. Balen only had a moment to wave a short goodbye to Arrowstorm before following quickly after her.

"Did you sleep well?" Moonshade said quietly as they made their way to a destination unknown to Balen. As they walked, Balen realized his footsteps were loud and seemed to find every small twig to crunch upon. Moonshade walked as silently as if her feet never touched the ground. He realized he had much to learn before he fit in as a true Wolfrider.

"I did, thank you," Balen replied.

She stopped suddenly before a tree with an impressively large base. The tree branches were strewn with large pieces of leather of varying colors. Moonshade opened up a compartment hidden within the trunk of the tree, pulling out several large pieces of the finest leather Balen had ever seen. She worked silently, holding up various pieces across Balen's chest, tilting her head, and placing it aside before grabbing another.

Though his demeanor gave no clue, Balen's mind raced with questions he had for Moonshade, his lovemate's mother, elder of the tribe, but he remained silent as she worked.

"This one," she finally said, pulling out a piece of dark gray leather. She held it against Balen's chest, then against his cheek. Her brilliant, purple eyes burned with the same fire as Arrowstorm's. _Definitely cut from the same cloth_, Balen thought.

"I let the dye sit for too long on this piece, many moons ago. It was too fine to give to the trolls or turn into scraps. The color… It's perfect for you. What do you think?" She pulled it back and held it out between her arms. Balen touched it gingerly, running his fingers across the length of the leather.

"It's the most beautiful leather I've ever seen," Balen said. "Our tanners never made leather like this in The Mountain."

"It reminds me of river stones," she murmured, more to herself than to Balen. "I'll use this, too, for your tunic," she said, removing a smaller piece of leather as dark as the night sky.

She worked deftly, using the edges of the leather pieces to measure Balen's waist, the length of his arms, the width of his shoulders, and marking them with small indentations on the leather. "You'll need sleeves. You may find the nights are chilly, even during this warm season," she said as she worked.

"Moonshade?" Balen asked, his voice quivering slightly over her name. Her eyes met his, indicating her attention, though her hands continued to work. "I do not want Strongbow to hate that I am here. Do you think he will ever forgive me?"

Moonshade's brow furrowed slightly, and she stood gracefully to meet his gaze. "Hate is a waste of energy. Strongbow certainly doesn't bother with it. He doesn't even dislike you," she said, her eyes warming. "He didn't disapprove of Arrowstorm's cause, only his method. He put the tribe in danger. But when it comes to getting you out of that mountain, you don't need forgiveness for that. Strongbow, more so than anyone, understands the importance of freedom."

Balen could only nod, but he felt an elation and relief at her words. He watched as she neatly folded up the pieces of leather. Placing them aside for later, she looked back at Balen curiously.

"Arrowstorm cut this?" she said, touching the ends of Balen's hair that flopped over his ears. Balen could only nod sheepishly.

"I asked him to. It wasn't his idea," Balen said, unable to read her expression as she examined his hair.

"May I?" she said, placing a hand on the blade sheathed at her waist. Balen nodded. As she sliced gently through pieces of Balen's hair, she said, "We have enough thistle-tops in this family already, don't you agree?" Moonshade said with another stunning smirk.

She didn't know that his heart stopped a moment at her words.

Sheathing her blade, she brushed the fallen hairs from his shoulders. "When you get a blade, I can teach you how to cut it yourself." Balen found it strange to think of owning a blade, but he didn't give voice to his concern.

"Thank you, Moonshade," Balen said, feeling both shy and grateful before the elder.

"I haven't made new leathers since Arrowstorm grew like a shimmerweed one moon. The pleasure is mine," she looked down for a moment. Balen thought perhaps this was his indication to leave, but her eyes raised to meet his. "I always knew Arrowstorm would find his way to someone. He showed so little interest in lovemates, even when we took him to the Sun Village to visit his brother, Dart…" she trailed off and shook her head. "When I get some pieces stitched, I'll need you again to adjust the fitting."

Balen nodded, giving her another polite word of thanks.

"Come," she said, beginning the walk back to the river bank. "Let's not keep Arrowstorm waiting." She touched her hand for a moment on Balen's back, between his shoulder blades. The minute gesture, a small thing to the casual observer, was not lost on Balen. Moonshade had shown Balen kindness and an easy kind of sincerity, not caring if he was a powerful rock shaper, a dweller of the highest tier, or the son of a great elf.

The river was alive with the entirety of the tribe when Balen returned with Moonshade to the cool, running waters. Mother Moon was now radiantly visible in the sky, with her child moon tucked safely behind her. He gazed up at her for a moment before, as if from nowhere, a strong arm wrapped itself tightly around his waist.

"Scot, _don't_!" Arrowstorm hollered. Balen was hitting the water before the panic could sink in.

Balen found his footing, though Arrowstorm was immediately at his side to steady him if he had not. His tunic clung heavily to his chest and arms, and he whipped his dripping wet locks away from his eyes. He blinked.

"I'm sorry," Arrowstorm said, clutching Balen's arms. "They're only playing," he pleaded, his voice full of exasperation.

Balen stared for a moment, dumbfounded, as Arrowstorm continued to rub Balen's arms in a futile effort to comfort him. After a moment, Balen was rocking slightly with Arrowstorm's desperate gestures of comfort. Slowly, Balen removed the now-heavy tunic and tossed it on the nearby riverbank with a wet plop. In the corner of his eye, Balen caught sight of a giggling Pike and smirking Scot. He turned and narrowed his eyes.

"Avenge me," Balen whispered. A grin spread across his face.

Arrowstorm's eyebrows rose, though it took him only a moment to react. As if he was born in the sea, Arrowstorm shot through the water and sprang effortlessly onto the river bed. The squeal of the Go-Backs and nearby spectators caused Balen to laugh heartily.

Balen climbed from the water with little of the grace of a Wolfrider. Sitting on the bank for a moment, he outstretched his legs and contemplated removing his soggy leggings. He felt a pang of uncertainty. Though he was used to bathing and dressing before his servants and his mother, Balen was otherwise used to a level of privacy and isolation utterly unfamiliar to the Wolfriders.

"Are you all right, little rock shaper?" said the familiar voice of Aroree. She loomed high above him, her thin wisps of hair easily catching the silver light of the moon.

"Yes," Balen said, with a nervous laugh. She knelt down beside him, resting her hands gracefully in her lap.

"I'm glad you are here," Aroree said, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. Her eyes became downcast.

"So am I," Balen replied. "Everyone has been so kind." Aroree's eyes flicked up to meet Balen's. He looked down as his soaking skin and clothes. "I think this is how Go-Backs welcome newcomers."

Aroree chuckled in a strange, silent way, her thin, bony fingers covering her small mouth to mask her smile.

"When I was freed from Blue Mountain, little one, it was the best day of my life," she said with an exhale. She looked up into the trees, the memory close behind her eyes. "I don't know why Aurek wanted to rebuild Blue Mountain. I can't begin to imagine why."

Balen listened to her, transfixed.

"But you, little rock shaper," she said, and outstretched her hand to touch Balen's cheek. Balen felt a start of alarm as he watched tears collect in her eyes.

"Aroree?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, as if to halt the swell of emotion, and sighed. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were his. You are every good part of him. I wish I knew what became of him. High Ones know why he would leave you behind. The very thought is…" she trailed off.

"It is strange," Balen said. "Since Leetah healed me…the anger…it does not burn like it once did. I think now, I am just sad I did not know him."

"The Aurek I knew was clever and witty. He created countless stone sculptures that made Blue Mountain beautiful. He was as close to the High Ones in birth as any of us, but he kept close to their ways, their hopes and dreams, as we moved forward as Gliders. Winnowill used this for her own twisted deeds, and I wonder if the Black Snake poisoned his mind permanently."

Balen allowed her words to sink in, and he tried to imagine his father in this way. The two sat in silence for a short while, one remembering an elf she knew and the other imagining an elf he didn't.

Suddenly, a stomping, breathless Arrowstorm stumbled down beside him. "It's done," he said with a laugh. He realized immediately that he had interrupted something, as his shoulders sagged. Balen looked back at Arrowstorm and gave him a reassuring smile.

Aroree gave the two lovemates a small smile and floated to her feet. Balen stood quickly.

"Aroree? Do you think we could talk again, sometime?"

"Of course," she said, reaching down once more and touching his cheek. "I would like that very much."

Arrowstorm stood, as Balen watched Aroree disappear into the forest, and scooped up Balen's tunic, hanging it on the nearby branch. Balen felt a chill overtake him, and the quick sound of his teeth clicking together had Arrowstorm at his side once more. Balen removed and hung up his leggings. He went immediately back into the water, as it appeared the only relief from the cold clinging to his body.

Balen allowed himself to dip slowly under the water. The soft sounds of the forest, and lull of elfin voices all disappeared as he was enveloped entirely into the water. He closed his eyes, listening to the dull hum within his ears. His mind was deliciously devoid of an anger and desperation that now seemed like a dream he remembered having but could not recall. When he surfaced, Arrowstorm was there, his eyes warm.

An intense pang of hunger caused Balen's face to sour. There were no servants to call to bring him a plate of delicacies or an extravagant dining hall to raid.

"I'm hungry," Balen said in a small voice. He felt foolish and helpless, realizing he had no means to feed himself if it were not for his lovemate.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Arrowstorm said, his eyes darting about as if food was already strewn about them. He stopped, becoming rigid and looked vigilantly at Balen. "I will hunt for you." Arrowstorm stabbed his legs haphazardly through his leggings, jumping to keep his balance. As he pulled on his tunic, Balen could sense that Arrowstorm's excitement for a hunt was as intense as his own hunger.

"Stay right here," Arrowstorm said, pointing to the ground for emphasis. "I'll be right back." A grin flashed across Arrowstorm's face, reminding Balen of the first time he witnessed this mischievous side of his archer, when they explored The Mountain together.

Balen sat back down on the grass beside the riverbank. The coolness of the air seemed to have no impact on the Wolfriders, which made Balen feel all the more feeble. He pulled his knees up against his chest in an attempt to trap whatever heat remained in his body. He let out a soft chuckle, remembering the countless times elves told him he was the most powerful rock shaper on the World of Two Moons. _I can't even feed myself_, Balen thought. An idea of somehow harnessing his power to aid in the catching of prey crossed his mind, but he couldn't think of any way to make it work. His forehead furrowed as he thought about the weak arc in The Mountain that was only a few year away from collapse. He hoped no one would be near when it gave way under the pressure.

"Here," Arrowstorm said, placing a small pile of leathers atop Balen's knees. "I wore these during the last white cold. They should fit you okay, at least until your leathers dry." Balen thanked Arrowstorm politely out of habit, though, as he pulled the tunic over his head, he let the leather linger as it passed over his nose. The faint smell of Arrowstorm that remained in the tunic, of grass and wolves and sweat, was intoxicating. As he watched Arrowstorm adjust the strap from his quiver of arrows across his chest and examine his dagger, Balen hoped that the two could share another time alone, soon.

"I will hunt for you," Arrowstorm said again, stepping close to Balen and touched Balen's hand with his own. His eyes seemed aglow in the dim light of the night, the excitement and the blood lust apparent within them.

"Should I come with you? Maybe I could be of some use…" Balen trailed off, as Arrowstorm had already shaken his head.

"You're going to stay here and wait for me." He touched Balen's cheek, running his rough fingers gently down the length of this neck. Balen thought for a moment that perhaps the hunting could wait, but the pangs in his stomach spoke louder than the thoughts in his head.

Arrowstorm turned and started toward the thick of the forest, before he stopped abruptly in his tracks. His shoulders tightened and rose with an exacerbated sigh that confused Balen. It was not until Arrowstorm turned back around and looked beyond Balen did the rock shaper turn to see Strongbow standing a few paces behind him. The elder wore a scowl that frightened Balen enough that he turned back to look at Arrowstorm, who was scowling back, much to Balen's dismay.

**You know better than to hunt alone** Strongbow sent with a clarity that, at first, made Balen think he was speaking. The sending was not open to all but was aimed directly at the pair.

"Balen is starving. He hasn't eaten in at least a day. I can't wait for Cutter to ready a hunting party," Arrowstorm said. His words started out firm but ended in desperate pleading.

**_You know better than to hunt alone_** Strongbow sent again. This time, his sending caused Balen to wince at the sharpness of it.

"Fine," Arrowstorm conceded. "Will you come with me, then? Do not make me wait for Cutter's hunt."

Strongbow took a few steps forward until he stood next to Balen. Balen could only look at him, wide-eyed, contemplating if perhaps he could forgo food for longer in order to end this conflict. Arrowstorm approached and stood before Balen, his stance no longer defiant.

**We never hunt alone. If your wish is to keep Arrowstorm in one piece, you'd best remind him of this. Frequently.** Strongbow looked directly at Balen as he sent, but the sending was open to Arrowstorm as well.

"Yes. Very well. Of course." Balen said, nodding more vehemently with each affirmation.

"Do you think we could hunt the bear? The one we spotted the last few hunts?" The young archer's excitement was palpable.

Strongbow's eyes narrowed.

**You mean the bear we have been avoiding, because she has a den full of cubs? The bear that would still be standing, even if you emptied your quiver into her?**

"Well we would take a spear. _Obviously_…" Arrowstorm said, his eyes downcast.

Strongbow's eyes met Balen's. **My son has a habit of not thinking before he acts. We must keep him alive until he can grow into some sense. No bear hunting.** Strongbow looked back at Arrowstorm. Balen watched as Arrowstorm surrendered with a slight smirk, and even Strongbow seemed to thaw as they peered at one another.

"But it's not fair! I know you killed a hundred bears with Bearclaw. Pike told me!" Balen listened as Arrowstorm's voice faded into the woods. He sat back down upon the grass, feeling worn out. Arrowstorm's old leathers hung loosely on him, though the arms and legs were too short and exposed his wrists and ankles. He went back to watching the Wolfrider's activities about the river. The gentle-hearted tree shaper Redlance accompanied Balen back to the Holt and spoke with him for some time. When Balen mentioned Arrowstorm and Strongbow's hunt, Redlance hastily brought Balen edible sweet berries to tide him over. Eventually, his lifemate Nightfall joined the pair, and they spoke about The Mountain. He could sense the elders' curiosity about Balen and his former home. When the pair mentioned their visits to Blue Mountain, Balen's head swam. In The Mountain, he could feel in the stone the countless years that had passed since his father created it. The rock shaper could only imagine the experiences the pair must have shared over so many years. After a bit of prodding, Balen finally shared with Redlance and Nightfall the story of how Arrowstorm and Balen found one another. He hesitated at first, feeling shy in front of the elders, but soon the details of the forbidden affair came easily. He told them of their conversation alone on the balcony, their exploring of the hunting lodge, and even Arrowstorm's cutting of Balen's hair, thought he skipped over the part that came after.

When Arrowstorm appeared before him, one skinned ravvit slung over his shoulder and another in his hand, Balen wanted to throw his arms around the archer. The forthcoming of food was a relief, but Balen, having recounted their story, wanted to once again feel Arrowstorm's hands on him. He wanted Arrowstorm to do all of the things he did before, but, this time, Balen wouldn't be quite so reserved or afraid.

"This one's scrawny, so I was right to get two," Arrowstorm said, ripping a piece off of the ravvit in his hand and handing it to Balen.

Balen stared at it for a moment. He had only eaten food from beautiful platters, prepared to please both the eye and the palate. The piece of raw, red meat appeared to still twitch with life before him. He pursed his lips.

"Arrowstorm," Redlance said softly, "I think Balen is used to cooked meat. Perhaps you could put it over a fire for a bit to make it easier for him to eat. I'll go fetch some dry branches…"

"No," Balen said. "Thank you, Redlance, but…no." He stared at the piece of meat in Arrowstorm's hand for another moment before he scooped it up with his fingers.

Arrowstorm made no indication of his thoughts as he watched Balen place the piece of meat in his mouth. He stared, unmoving, as Balen swallowed it. He reached out his hand for another piece, which Arrowstorm filled with a larger piece from the ravvit. Nightfall and Redlance watched silently, a mix of curiosity and awe on their faces. Before long, Balen had consumed all of the pieces Arrowstorm gave him from the first and a few pieces from the second ravvit. When Arrowstorm began to tear another chunk from the second ravvit, Balen put up his hand.

Arrowstorm's eyes remained transfixed on Balen. He tossed the ravvit aside, and Balen was startled to see Baby appear from the shadows and take the remainder of the meat away.

"Do you feel better? Cutter will call for a hunting party later, if you get hungry again."

Balen nodded. He was afraid to speak, for he felt slightly nauseous.

Redlance gave Balen an affectionate pat on the shoulder and a goodbye before they departed between the trees. Balen breathed in deeply.

"I have something to show you," Arrowstorm said.

"Oh?" Balen said when he was sure the contents of his stomach had settled.

Arrowstorm stood and took Balen by the hand, guiding him to a small clearing. The outline of the Father Tree was still visible behind them. Before them was a rock formation that marked the end of the forest and the beginning of the rocky terrain that made up one side of the perimeter of the Wolfrider's home. Though distant, Balen could feel footsteps far below within the stone.

The entrance of the small cave was slightly shorter than Balen. Though unremarkable to the eye, Balen felt traces of rock shaping magic about the cave.

"This cave…" Balen said, standing to one side of the entrance and touching the arc that made up the opening. "It was once shaped by magic.

"This cave," Arrowstorm said, standing on the opposite side of the opening, "could be our den. If it pleases you." Balen looked at Arrowstorm for a moment before crouching into the cave and kneeling within the darkness. Arrowstorm followed Balen inside, before stopping suddenly.

"Wait! I forgot something," Arrowstorm said, darting outside.

Balen took the moment alone to feel out the stone as far as he could. This cave was only slightly larger than the tree den Balen slept in last night, but he felt an undeniable comfort within it. A part of him wished he did not feel that way, but a lifetime in a stone mountain made him accustomed to the cool surroundings of stone.

What Balen could only guess was a fur blanket fell to the floor, and Arrowstorm knelt before a stone shelf that Balen had not noticed before. The spark of fire illuminated Arrowstorm's shadow for a moment, until eventually a candle was lit.

"Who stayed in this cave before?" Balen asked, noticing a strange rock shaped face protruding from the rock wall.

"Rayek and Ekuar. Before Rayek took the palace, I suppose they would stay here when they weren't in the palace. Of course, it's been a long time since then."

"Who lives below us?" Balen said, still examining the strange visage on the wall.

"Below us?" Arrowstorm thought for a moment but did not produce and answer.

"I feel them. Not directly below us, but within the stone. There are hundreds of them."

"Oh, the trolls!" Arrowstorm said, nodding. "They live in the stone. We have a sort-of arrangement with them. They keep us in good swords and daggers, and we provide dreamberries and our leftover leathers and furs."

"Trolls? I've never seen a troll before. I've only heard stories about them." Balen turned and continued to look about the cave wall, which was devoid of any other marking for the most part.

Arrowstorm straightened out the furs. "Do you like it?" he asked, as he crawled next to Balen. "This could be all yours. You could do anything you like with it."

"I do like it, Arrowstorm. Very much, I do," Balen said. "But you live in the trees. Is that not the way of the Wolfriders?"

"You don't have to live in a tree to be a Wolfrider. We can sleep in here every day and still be Wolfriders."

Balen placed his head on Arrowstorm's shoulder, knowing that Arrowstorm would wrap his arms around him. Arrowstorm ran his fingers through Balen's hair.

"You have to keep the opening closed though, especially when we're in here. We don't want any unwanted pests in our den willing to fight us for shelter."

Balen nodded, and the opening closed smoothly and quickly. The flickering of the candle and the whirl of air through the small openings in the back of the cave were the only sounds heard.

"You save me from that wretched mountain. You give me a place to live. You bring me ravvits," Balen laughed but did not move from underneath Arrowstorm's arms. "My very life belongs to you."

Arrowstorm ran his hands down the length of Balen's back, his fingers lingering on the loose leather at the waist of Balen's borrowed leggings.

**Does that mean you'll be my lifemate?** Arrowstorm's sending seemed bottomless. And if he chose, Balen could have plunged to the depths of Arrowstorm's soul.

"Lifemate?" Balen laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

"Why do you laugh? I'm not joking," Arrowstorm protested, though he smiled back.

Balen's chuckles ceased. "We can't be lifemates. You pair with a lifemate to hope to have a child… to combine households and host gatherings for the council…"

"I don't understand what you just said," Arrowstorm said with a small shake of his head. "But I hope you'll reconsider and be my lifemate."

Words caught in Balen's throat, and all he could do was blink at Arrowstorm and swallow.

It wasn't until Arrowstorm had removed his own clothes and proceeded to remove Balen's did the rock shaper make another sound. He tried to send it all to Arrowstorm, but it he was more often than not, overtaken with Arrowstorm's own sending, filling his head, and leaving him the blissful sense of fulfillment that made him forget to send his own thoughts. He knew, though, that Arrowstorm took them instead, pulling his every thoughts through the channel of sending between them. The light of the candle illuminated Arrowstorm enough for Balen to see bright brown eyes on him, the glint of sharp white teeth when he opened his mouth to let out a silent breath. Soon, his breaths were no longer silent, turning into one rasping groan after another. Arrowstorm rough, calloused fingers pushed into Balen's skin until the skin screamed from the pressure, which Balen reveled in.

"I have reconsidered," Balen murmured, after the sweat had gone from his skin. The furs encased them in warmth, which made Balen's eyes feel all the more heavy. "I want to be your lifemate."

"I know," Arrowstorm said, his eyes remaining closed.


End file.
